Kept Within the Cabin
by M. Devlin
Summary: Ten years have passed since Thor was exiled to Earth. Now, more mortal than god, Thor finds comfort in living isolated in a woodland cabin untouched by urban civilisation. But after so many years, loneliness consumes him and he kidnaps beautiful Grace, an innocent eighteen-year-old, with the intention of making her his companion and the mother of his children.
1. Chapter 1

The concept of kidnapping someone in order to have them as your companion is derived from the book 'Stolen' by Lucy Christopher. This story will also be influenced (to a small extent) by the movie 'Snow White and the Huntsman' in that Thor becomes a huntsman/ man of nature. I own nothing involving Thor, Stolen or Snow White and the Huntsman - Enjoy!

Chapter One:

She pounded harder against the door, the sides of her hands bruised and sore from the repeated hitting motion against the wood.

'Please, let me out!' she cried harder, pulling at the handle before throwing herself one last time at the wood and then collapsing on the floor in a sobbing heap.

Despite the coolness of the tiled room around her, Grace felt very hot. Her hair sticking to her forehead, her body covered in sweat, her throat aching from screaming as she struggled to hold her head up while she panted, recovering from the onslaught that she'd given the locked door for the last two hours.

She only stopped her sobbing when she heard the door click open, and a pair of long legs laced in hikers boots stepped before her. Too exhausted to lift her head, her arms shook as she tried to steady herself, and all too quickly, felt herself become incredibly light as her head spun and she slumped against the strong legs before her.

The sight of her made him laugh heartily, and bending at the waist he pulled her up from beneath her arms, and carried her to the bathtub.

Checking the temperature of the running water, he carefully stripped the limp form before him of her clothing, careful not to catch her hair when he pulled off her shirt, and to hold her upright so that she would not plummet to the hard floor. Occasional sobs broke from her lips as she would wake momentarily and offer some resistance, before falling back into a slumber where she would twitch occasionally, he breathing jagged and uneven.

Careful to keep her head above the waterline, he bathed her sleeping form, careful to rub her skin gently with the cloth as her pale skin was prone to easy scrapes and bruises. He lastly washed her hair, but holding her up and pouring on the soap proved to be much more difficult than he initially thought. She would occasionally slip and her face would duck beneath the water before he'd pull her up, coughing and gasping for air as he washed the suds from her locks. Shaking in fear, exhaustion would overtake and once again, she would slip into an uneasy slumber, her arms crossed over her chest to conceal her small mounds.

After drying, dressing and laying her in bed, he made his way outside to the porch of his home, and sat on the hard wooden chair that he had spend several days constructing and carving himself. The air was cool against his skin, and as if on alert, he kept his eyes scanning the forest before him, tracing the lines of each bush, branch and trunk that he'd become so accustomed to since he'd settled at the cabin five years before.

After several hours, he became restless with the woodlands that was blanketed in darkness, and so rose from his seat and made his way back inside where he sat for some time, staring at the sleeping beauty before him.

Her small wrist was bound in a cushioned cuff above her head, and with his fingers he traced the line of the small silver key in his pocket. He'd tried to make her as comfortable as possible at all times, but her attempt to bolt the previous night had resulted in the compulsory use of the cuff, but her tied arm restricted her ability to move freely, and several times during the night she would awaken groggily, pulling at the metal as she tried to reposition herself. Uncuffing her wrist and instead cuff her leg to the footboard, it allowed her a different range of motion, and made her more comfortable, if only slightly. Perhaps one day they would get to the stage where no cuff was required, but that time was still a long way off, he brooded.

Even in sleep her brow was marred with a frown, and this made the knot of guilt twist even tighter in his stomach. She did not want to be here with him, she'd said as much many times, and this would dampened his mood greatly. Taking her small hand into his big ones, he traced her bruised and bloodied knuckles with the pad of his thumb, wounds she had obtained trying to get away from him; attempts that had been fruitless as he had easily overpowered her, subduing her physically – just as he had done so on the day two days prior, when he had taken her.

He did not relish that memory. Her screams, her anger, her terror as he'd pulled her from the street and into the van were as fresh and raw as if they had just happened. He could still feel the tears dripping onto his forearm as he had eventually caught her neck within the crook of his arm, and clenched his bicep until her knees weakened and she went limp in his arms.

Binding her wrists together and her ankles as well, he began the long drive back to the cabin where he'd planned to keep her. A sharp punch of remorse hit him in the chest as he remembered how cruel he had been that day, how he had heard her pleas for release but had ignored them. If only she knew how he'd felt, how hearing her waking noises and then, muffled cries in the back of his van left tears in his eyes as he drove her further away from civilisation and further into the mountains. Several times he called out to her, soothing her, telling her she was safe, that he'd untie her soon – it had the opposite effect, his voice just made her scream louder, made her thump harder until eventually her weeping that was muffled by the gag became a series of short, sharp sniffles that echoed in the empty van.

Despite the open fire in the room, her hand was cold, and enveloping it with his ones, he rubbed them together to create a heated friction; his beautiful Grace, who had not spoken a word to him but to beg for release. Her distress did not make her the most talkative of companions, but her presence pleased him greatly, and even though her brown eyes would look to him in fear and uncertainty when he would enter her room, he would smother a smile that threatened to rise as her just _being_ here relaxed him and gave him hope.

His plan had changed quite drastically from what he'd imagined it would be. The many weeks that he'd spent rebuilding and repainting the cabin, building new furniture, buying female products that he thought she might need had gone unnoticed by her. Standing in the female aisle of the supermarket with two different brands of feminine hygiene products had not been the easiest task he'd undertaken, but she would need them, he'd thought, and so he had to work out which ones to buy. In truth, he was not blind to the situation.

Snatched from her world and comforts had made her terrified, housed in the middle of the woods with a stranger had severed her nerves. And whilst his fantasy had consisted of her consenting to come to the cabin, being pleased to be in his company, and stroking the new furniture and the newly painted walls, none of that happened. It was just that: a fantasy. The reality had been hearing the deafening silence as they sat together, with only his voice echoing from the walls.

He did not intend to keep her locked up, she would eventually have full access to the house without his supervision. He would at first be mindful of her movements within the house, but eventually she would settle, he consoled himself, and she would be happy to be here. Away from the towns, the people, the stress, she would be comforted by nature and the woodlands and the long walks that they could take together.

As of yet, at every turn she had distance herself from him both physically and mentally, shifting away from his hands, not responding to his conversation, she had only been here a few days, and he was a patient man. She would talk when she was ready, he thought.

A tight knot of anger and humiliation rose in his belly, and struggling to push it away, the memories of that day resurfaced, wounding his pride deeply. But guilt overshadowed everything about that day, enveloping him in an unseemly manner, draining him of any positivity that could be derived from the choice that he had made to take her.

Grace was here with him and he was no longer alone, he reasoned. But the cuts and bruises on her hands spoke volumes about how _she_ felt about that situation. She did not want to be here, she did not want him, and she went to great lengths to ignore his presence – this wounded him deeply as he wanted nothing more than her to be happy with him, than for her to find happiness in the life that they could share together in this tiny piece of land undisturbed by urban communities.

He'd felt alone for long enough, five long years had passed since he'd first set up at the cabin, and since then he'd hardly been in the presence of others. He would sit by the open fire at night, carving something from a stick of wood with a knife, night after night as he pondered the life that he had left behind and the future of solitary that was before him. He had up until a few weeks ago enjoyed his own company, and although he did sometimes feel a desire for the warmth and companionship that only another person could bring, and it was only on his trip into the 'local' village that he's finally discovered what was sorely lacking from his life.

His desire to marry and procreate had pushed him over the edge one February morning as he stood in the supermarket, picking up sacks of rice when his eyes fell on a small figure that stood with her side to him, reading the contents of a box in her hand. Feeling a lurch in his chest, his feet frozen to the spot, he stared unashamedly at the girl before him.

Her long, curly chestnut hair pulled at something within him, as she moved her hair, the fluorescent lights revealed its natural shine and what he imagined would be soft hair to the touch. Skin so pale, and a tiny face so beautiful, he felt a primal desire overtake him, a want to touch her and take her back with him to keep just for his pleasure, to worship and adore and kiss every inch of that petite form, where he could stake his claim to her. He wanted no one else to be gifted with her beauty; he wanted it all for himself.

Something within him had snapped there and abandoning his rice, he followed her throughout the supermarket, his eyes following her every move up until she removed her key from her pocket and entered her home a few streets from the market.

She hadn't noticed him, too busy reading the label of a food product that she'd turned and walked completely past the stranger who had been completely transfixed with her for several minutes now. Walking by him, she did note a tall male, over six feet with shoulder length blond hair that had been standing a few feet away from her, but too preoccupied with the box in her hand, she did not look at his face and instead continued with her shopping and made her way home, struggling to hold all the bags as the plastic cut into her hand.

He gazed upon his sleeping beauty and guilt gnawed at him; though she did not want to be here with him, his wants and needs had been far too powerful to take her protests into consideration. He had behaved like a primitive savage to her, forcing her into the mountains and subjecting her to a life of isolation. But a voice within convinced him that eventually, she would grow to love him, that she would be happy and eventually, they would have the family that he had imagined.

He imagined her, smiling lovingly at him as their child suckled at her breast, small trusting eyes staring up at both of them as the infant took his fill of milk before falling into a deep slumber, completely content with the warmth generated by both mother and father who huddled around him with a protective embrace. He imagined a home filled with many tiny little ones that would result from their love making – and it was this image, walking into the kitchen as food was being served, several pairs of small and identical eyes staring up at him with bright smiles as he settled at the table, the smallest of their children clamouring to get into his lap.

Placing his lips to the cut on her knuckles, he gentle kissed the torn flesh before leaving the room, and clicking the door shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two:

She cried silently into the crook of her arm, containing her noisy weeping so as not to draw his attention, she didn't want him in her room, to see the sorry state that he had reduced her to.

Her mind was racing, her imagination working overtime in order to produce the most graphic images of violence that she could picture her kidnapper inflicting on her. She was never going to leave, he had said as much. There had been no promises of being returned home, no promises of being saved, no promises of being freed – she 'belonged' with him, and would stay with him.

He would enter her room at night, the darkness only lightened by the fire, and she would watch as his silhouette would close the door behind him, and slowly make its way over to where she lay.

He would remove his shirt, unbuttoning it and placing it on the chair in the corner. Next he would push his boots from his feet and then manoeuvre out of his trousers. The light glinting off of his chest, he would take careful steps towards the bed where she lay, her hand cuffed to the board, shaking in terror and clamping her legs together so tightly that the muscles on her thighs would burn.

Curled tightly into a ball, she would feel him slip between the sheets and the hot, hard planes of his chest would wrap around her back as his hands plied her arm from around her leg.

She expected him to force himself on her, to crush her with his weight and push himself into her, and most of her demonic thoughts revolved around images of him raping her whilst torturing her in some other way, before discarding her corpse in the woods someone, her body never to be found again.

He was mentally unwell, that she was sure of, and each and every night and he entered her room, her dread would spike and she would feel her heart slamming against her chest as she prepared herself. _He's going to do it tonight_, the voice in her head would quake.

Images of his large hands, roaming her body, settling on her neck, choking the life out of her made her stiffen, and her breathing speed up. But almost as suddenly as her anxiety would spike, it would relent and she would be overcome with a sense of contentment and security. It did not take her long to realise that it was the feel of him pressed against her, his arms pulling her back tightly to his chest, his fingers stroking her stomach ever so softly, which would quieten her fears.

Almost as if he could sense her anxiety spiking, he would pull her even closer, face nuzzling into her hair until her troubles ceased, then and only then would he loosen his grip – but only slightly.

She never once uttered a word about how she felt; she never once said 'I'm afraid'. Sometimes she would think too much, about how she had promised her mother that she'd be back within an hour – almost a week had passed since then. She would relive the moments leading up to her abduction, she had seen him walking towards her from his van, calling to her by name, and she had stopped and smiled, talking to him for a few moments. He was the handsome man who had made her acquaintance a few weeks before, the man who had carried her bags home for her. It had been against her wishes, but deep down she was flattered by the attention that this deep-voiced, blue eyed giant was paying her.

She thought nothing of stopping to talk to him that day, he was smiling kindly at her; he was a good guy. He was well-spoken, he seemed old fashioned, and she labelled him 'trustable'.

It was almost ten o'clock when she heard the bedroom door unlocking, and wiping her tears from her eyes, she quickly bolted upwards, knees to her chest and tucked her head inwards as she heard him enter and close the door behind him.

'Good morning Grace' he announced, and she could hear his smile 'I've brought you some breakfast. I believe you will be hungry this morning.'

She felt the bed dip, and his legs brushed her foot as he inched closer, and clasped her chin within his firm hand.

'You have been crying?' his voice broke and his eyes immediately saddened, making her eyes leak further. Pulling on the sleeve of his shirt, he dried her cheeks. 'You must not cry as it will weaken you. Nor have not been eating, you must do so.' he pointed to the last night's dinner tray.

'I don't want you becoming unwell, you must eat to keep up your strength' he reasoned, taking a small chunk of peach and pressing it to her lips. For a moment she tasted the sweetness and savoured it, but snapped her head away quickly before the morsel was pushed into her mouth. _It might be drugged_ she thought to herself, _why else would he have you here but to hurt you?_

'Grace, please just eat this' she heard his soft voice, but rather than scaring her, his deep voice was comforting and against her wishes, she felt her body relax and her head turned towards him, her body feeling as if it was being drawn to him.

Wavy blonde hair framed his face, and fell in sharp uneven layers above his shoulders, he must cut his own hair, she thought, and then pictured him sitting at a barber with the cape around his neck, having his hair trimmed, and the image did not suit him. He was rugged, the type who kept his fingernails short, and who constantly had the stain of dirt on his face from working outside. Her eyes assessed him further; soft blue eyes highlighted by blond facial hair gave him a caveman look – he was very attractive, he looked like he was a _nice guy,_ not someone who would do this to her, not an evil kidnapper.

'Do not be afraid, I will not harm you.' He spoke, and only then did she notice that she had been touching his forearm, a deep crease in her brow as she contemplated all the damage that he could do to her with his large, powerful frame. 'I do not wish to harm you Grace, I want to keep you well. I want you to be happy here.' he continued, brushing the fruit against her lips once more, plying them open and dropping the sweetness onto her tongue. She chewed with relish, a sudden pang of hunger hitting her deep in her stomach.

'I have a brother who was just like you' he smiled at her 'Stubborn, he would never eat as a child unless he was fed by our mother's own hand'

_So this evil monster has a mother then?_ The voice in her head mocked.

He extended his hand to the bowl of fruit, and she watched him as she slipped slice after slice between her fluffy pink lips, his eyes flickering from her lips to her eyes before quirking his lips up slightly.

She could smell the outside on him, coupled with his own scent of sweat and manliness, the faint but potent smell stroked her insides as she inhaled deeply, taking in as much of him as she could.

'You are much like a child Grace, so small and pure.' He rubbed his fingers against the cloth of her dress, and she felt an even deeper sense of comfort envelope her. She pushed her legs into his hand, wanting more of his strength on her. 'You need to be cared for. I will care for you, I will make sure that you are kept safe.'

_What are you doing?_ She chastised herself, _he's got you captive!_ And her body responded in a knee jerk reaction by extending her hand and slapping him across the cheek.

His smile dropped immediately, and she decided that he was more outraged than hurt by her actions. A man of his size couldn't be hurt by someone as puny as her; a man of his size couldn't be hurt by anyone. But that flash of anger in his eyes sent a bolt of terror through her, momentarily.

'You have not finished eating, open' plying his fingers into her mouth he pushed in small pieces of bread, forcing her to eat, as she dug herself further into the headboard and away from him. Now out of arm-length, he responded by shuffling closer to her, trapping her against the wooden board, and clasping her face firmly in his hand, he looked down at her with anger in his eyes.

Her previous comfort in his presence now gone, she shuddered as she was trapped by the furious blue of his iris', and fear overtaking, she felt her bottom lip tremble despite her best efforts, and tears stinging her eyes.

'Why did you strike me?' he demanded, jerking her head towards him when she tried to look away. 'I have been nothing but gracious, how dare you strike–'

'I'm sorry' she interrupted, tears now wetting her cheeks. He started, as if he had been struck, and the crease between his brows softened as he looked into her weeping brown eyes. He sat staring at her, his eyes boring into hers for several minutes as a deafening silence descended around them. Nothing, not even the sounds of the birds outside, or the rustle of the trees penetrated the bubble of tension that had erupted within her room.

She could feel her heart pounding against her chest, the deafening journey of blood in her body loud in her ears. Her fear spiked when he shifted his thumb from her cheek, and ran it along her cupid's bow. It was rough, but not unpleasant. Lifting her gaze from his hand, she noted that his eyes were staring intently where his thumb traced her lips; back and forth, the calloused pad danced against her flesh until her throat grew dry and her heart was beating so fast that a sheen of sweat broke out at her temples.

'You should not fight me Grace, you will not be victorious. You will find your stay here with me pleasant in time; you will understand that I mean you no harm.' His eyes never left her face, and despite the fear that seemed to overwhelm her, a deep throb of pleasure descended between her legs, and once again, she felt comforted by his presence.

His pupils had dilated; he seemed to derive some pleasure from being this close to her. The thought shook her momentarily, but once again, a warm blanket of safety enveloped her, and her muscles relaxed.

Her mouth just centimetres from his, he tugged gently at her to have their mouths connect quicker. His hair, long and soft, brushed her cheeks as she felt the wet vapours of his exhalation and lost in the moment, she jumped in terror at the interruption.

_What are you doing?_ The voice in her head screamed, making jerk away from him.

A look of confusion crossed his face.

'Did I hurt you Grace? What is the matter?' he asked, his breathing jagged. He reached to cup her face in his hand but she slapped it away. Pushing her hand away from covering her face, he once again tried to hold the softness of her cheek within his hand. She flinched at the roughness of his hands, pushing herself away from him.

'Go away…go away!' she shouted, her voice cracking. The trees swished loudly outside, and standing up, he took slow deliberate steps before turning back towards her cowering frame.

'Grace, I–'

'Just get out!' she screamed, and this time she was sobbing loudly, hugging her knees to her chest as he closed the door and she heard the click of the key. 'Let me go! Do you hear me! I want to go home! Home, home, home!' She pulled on her cuffed hand for good measure, a sharp stab of pain shooting through her arm and down her back.

What was happening to her? She felt like she was being invaded, from the inside out. No matter how angry, or upset, or terrified she would be, as she would look into his eyes, as soon as she would feel his skin against hers, she could feel a blanket of warmth and protection envelope her, forcing her to trust him, forcing her to relax, as if something were pulling her towards him.

As if some force was pushing her to trust him, a powerful force that was playing and tuning her emotions against her will.

From up above, Loki looked down on his brother, now on his knees, looking every bit the broken man as we wept in sadness at the response of his chosen companion.

It was the tug of remorse for having lied to his brother about the death of his father than had caused Loki to intervene for his brother. Isolated, trapped and alone in the mortal world, Loki had been manipulating the emotions of the young girl, Grace, but he had come up against some difficulty. Human will was powerful, and despite the power granted to him, Loki's powers over the hearts of the human-kind were limited.

Thor's choice to take a bride in this manner had been harsh, but to Loki, the choice had been understandable. The years of loneliness and pain had passed from Thor to Loki through a bond that only life-long companionship and brotherly-love could form. Unwilling to let his brother suffer unnecessarily in the mortal world, Loki had been willing to intervene if it provided his brother with the love and companionship that could cure him of his torments.


End file.
